by James Hunt
“You know that friend of yours acted tough in the beginning, too, but in the end he cracked like a little bitch,” Terry said.
Eric sprang from his seat, but Terry brought the side of his pistol across Eric’s face quickly, knocking him down. Eric groaned, rocking back and forth on his back on the couch. Terry brought the pistol down on Eric again, this time striking the other side of his face. The crack of metal against bone made each of them jump. Terry brought his arm up again for another blow.
“Stop!” Brooke said.
Before Brooke could take another step forward, the barrel of Terry’s pistol was aimed at her, with his finger on the trigger.
“Now’s not the time to get fresh, sweetheart,” Terry said.
Brooke slowly lowered herself back to the floor. Eric, still disoriented, pushed himself up on his elbow. Blood from his wounds dripped against the carpet and seat cushions. Bits of jagged flesh dangled from his cheek. The cut was at least two inches long.
Terry turned the pistol back on Amy, who jumped at the sudden movement. “Dial. Now.”
Amy pressed the phone to her ear like a kid trying to cover her ears to protect herself from the situation around her. Everyone else was quiet. Brooke could hear the faint ringing from the phone. After three rings, a muffled voice picked up.
“Daniel?” Amy asked, her voice shaking. “Daniel, you need to come home... Gabby’s sick and the doctors don’t know what’s wrong… No, they won’t let me see her. Daniel, it’s bad. Please, com— Okay. We’re at Charlotte General.” Amy set the phone down, her hand still trembling. “He’s on his way.”
“Good. Now, this is what’s going to happen next. You and your daughter are going to take a little trip with me to the hospital, where we’re going to wait for him,” Terry said.
“Please! I don’t even know what this is about! What do you want?” Amy pleaded.
“Your husband pissed off the wrong people,” Terry answered.
Bounty hunter. Brooke should have known. Guns for hire had become a booming business over the past few years. Corporations wanting to protect resources and assets would hire certain unfavorable individuals to ensure their continued survival. The targets could be anyone: workers, politicians… illegals. But what haunted Brooke was worrying whether she had brought this on Daniel. Did he try and ask for favors to allow Brooke and her children to stay here permanently? Did he have to break the law to make it happen?
“What are you going to do to him?” Brooke asked.
“You need to be worrying about yourself, sweetheart,” Terry answered. “Now, everyone, up!”
John helped Eric limp to the basement. Brooke kept Emily in her arms, and Gabby walked sheepishly behind Amy. All the while, Terry kept both pistols aimed at their heads in case anyone decided to get brave.
Once downstairs, Terry instructed Amy to zip-tie their hands behind their backs, even Emily’s, then did the same to their feet. While Amy was busying tying them up, Brooke was scanning the shelves in the basement, looking for anything she could use to free herself once Terry was gone. All she could see were blankets, old storage bins, and two medium-sized cardboard boxes labeled “mason jars.”
Terry checked the restraints to make sure they were secure. “All right, so here’s the deal. If anyone isn’t here when I get back, I kill these two,” pointing at Gabby and Amy, who were quivering and clinging to each other. “So if you try and escape, you’ll have their blood on your hands.” Terry locked them inside, casting Brooke, Eric, and John into total darkness.
“John, are you okay?” Brooke asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” John answered.
“Eric?” Brooke asked.
Brooke heard a moan, then a soft, “yes.” The zip ties around her wrists and ankles were tight. She could feel the blood struggling to circulate and the swelling it caused. She had no idea how far away the hospital was, but she knew that it had to be at least a five-hour flight from Canada to Charlotte. Brooke was just glad Amy had been smart enough not to tell the bounty hunter where Daniel was. It at least bought them some time.
“John, can you scoot over to where my back is?” Brooke asked.
“I’ll try.”
“Just keep following my voice.”
Brooke’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness. She could see the shapes of shelves and boxes forming. She felt John’s hand grab her arm.
“Perfect, now, keep your wrists up,” Brooke said. She wiggled her fingers until she could feel the zip tie around John’s wrist. She ran her fingertips over the edge until she found the tiny covering that concealed the zip tie’s locking bar. She picked at it, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Mom, what are you doing?” John asked.
“I’m trying,” Brooke said, continuing to pick at the locking bar, “to get us,” she could hear the tick of her fingernail getting close, “out of here.”
The muscles in Brooke’s back tightened, and she could feel her hands going numb. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d have the feeling in her fingertips to do this. Her frustration grew with each small “click” and “tick” she heard from her laborious efforts.
Finally, after a few more minutes of trying, she heard the distinct slide of the zip tie loosening, giving John enough room to wiggle his hands free.
“I’m out!” John said.
“That’s great! Now, get your feet free and then undo my hands,” Brooke said.
Brooke coached John through it. It took him a little longer than it had taken Brooke, even with both of his hands free, but eventually John managed to undo the zip ties on his feet. Once he was done, he untied Brooke, who then quickly freed Emily and Eric.
With John helping Eric, Brooke rushed up the staircase, but when her hand landed on the doorknob, it was locked. The door buckled a bit when she shoulder-checked it. She hit it again, repeatedly trying to break the door down, but she just didn’t have enough weight behind her.
“John! Come up here,” Brooke shouted. Her son joined her at the top of the staircase. “We hit it on three. One, two, three!” Brooke and John sent their collective weight into the door. A noticeable crack formed along the edges. “Again. One, two, three!” They swung their shoulders into the door and tumbled into the hallway outside.
Brooke immediately rushed to the front of the house and checked the driveway. Amy’s car was gone. Brooke walked in circles, trying to determine her next move. Whoever had hired the hit on Daniel would most likely have political pull that stretched into the authorities, so the police were out.
“John!” Brooke said.
He came into the living room, propping Eric up under his shoulder with Emily in tow. Eric collapsed onto the couch, holding his face and exhausted from the effort of climbing the stairs.
“Let me see your phone,” Brooke said.
John tossed her his mobile, and she connected to the Internet. Charlotte General was twelve miles north. With Amy’s car gone, the only other mode of transportation was the cruiser parked in the garage, which still wasn’t presentable for the road.
“Kevin,” Brooke whispered. “John, which house did you and Kevin go too?”
“Next door.”
Brooke headed for the front door, but before she reached the handle, John pulled her back.
“Mom, wait.”
“What?”
“Their parents aren’t home. It’s a party. Don’t be mad when you go over there, okay?”
“John, teenage drinking is the least of my worries right now.”
Brooke dashed across the lawn. The faint thump of bass grew louder the closer she moved to the neighbor’s house. Down the street, she could see the collection of cars that the kids tried hiding to avoid suspicion. The front door was open, and Brooke walked right inside.
The music was so loud that Brooke could feel her body vibrate. The house was wall-to-wall high school kids. Most of the hands she saw were holding either red cups or someone of the opposite sex. Because of the music, no one had heard her entr
ance, and it took a few minutes before people realized there was an adult in the house. It wasn’t long afterward that kids started bolting for the exit, assuming that it was the parent of whoever lived here.
Brooke scanned the faces of the kids inside, trying to locate her nephew. Finally, she found Kevin in the back talking to a girl, one of the red cups in his hand. It was the girl he was talking to that saw Brooke first. Kevin chucked the drink in his hand as Brooke walked up to him.
“Please, Aunt Brooke, don’t tell my mom.”
“I need your phone, Kevin.”
“What?”
“Quickly!”
Kevin fumbled in his jeans pocket, then handed Brooke his cell. She scrolled through the phone vigorously. She could see Kevin try to sneak off out of the corner of her eye, but she snatched him up as she pressed the phone to her ear.
“Aunt Brooke, please don’t call my mom. She’s going to kill me.”
“Hush!”
The phone rang four times before Daniel finally picked up.
“Kevin, what’s wrong? Did you guys hear something from the doctors?” Daniel asked, his voice frantic.
“Daniel, it’s Brooke. The call Amy made was a setup. Some bounty hunter has them and is using both her and Gabby as bait.”
While Daniel remained silent on the phone, she watched Kevin’s guilt-ridden face morph into one of concern. “Aunt Brooke, what’s going on?”
“What about Kevin? Is he all right? Where are they?” Daniel asked.
“He’s fine. He’s with me. They’re on their way to Charlotte General now. I didn’t think the police could help in this situation, but I was hoping you knew of someone that might,” Brooke answered.
“Yes, I do. I’m on my way to the airport now. Are they in Amy’s car?”
“Yeah.”
“Listen, you guys need to leave the house. It’s not safe there anymore. I have some cash stored in my nightstand upstairs. It’s upwards of one thousand dollars. Take it and get a hotel room. Stay there until you here from me. I’ll call Kevin’s phone.”
“All right. Wait! Daniel, do you have a firearm in the house?”
“Yes, it’s in a safe in the nightstand next to my bed.”
“Text the combination to Kevin’s phone.”
Brooke hung up and stuffed the phone into her pocket. She grabbed Kevin by the scruff of his neck and headed back to his house, where she had Eric take care of the kids. Kevin’s phone pinged, signaling a text and Brooke rushed up the stairs to the second floor.
***
“Can’t you go any faster?” Daniel asked.
The cab driver simply shrugged and gestured to the red brake lights in front of him. The thick Halifax traffic was at a standstill. Daniel’s body wouldn’t stop shaking. He wasn’t sure whether it was because of fear or anger. The fact that Jones had actually gone through with his threat shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but the lingering shock wouldn’t go away. Daniel dialed the only number he could think of. He just prayed that he would pick up.
“Daniel, is everything all right?” Smith asked.
“David! My family’s in trouble!”
“Whoa, slow down.”
“Jones put a hit on me, and he’s using my family as bait. I need your help. You have to help me.”
“Okay, just calm down. Where is your family?”
“Charlotte General. They’re in my wife’s car. It’s a blue Audi A4. Please, David, don’t let him hurt them.”
“I won’t. Where are you?”
“I’m stuck in traffic on my way to the airport.”
“The plane I had bring you to Halifax should still be there. I’ll have the pilot start getting things ready for takeoff.”
“Thank you.”
Daniel ended the call and closed his eyes. The cab started to feel hot. He loosened his tie. His breathing accelerated. This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. Everything started to spin. Get a grip. You need to get a grip. Control it! All of the rage running through him funneled into his fist as he pounded the ceiling of the taxicab repeatedly.
All of this was because of him. Jones might have his finger on the trigger, but Daniel was the one who had put his family in the crosshairs. He’d let his ego get the better of him. And now his family was paying the price for his mistakes. The fate of his family’s future rested solely on his shoulders. Daniel prayed that that he’d be able to bear it.
***
Gallo’s plane landed on a small landing strip near the California border just east of Tijuana. He was no more than forty miles from the fighting. Normally it was unconventional for an officer of his stature to be this close to the front lines, but he refused to sit behind a desk while his men fought one of the biggest conflicts in Mexican history.
The soldiers on the tarmac saluted, and Gallo sniffed the air. The faintest hint of smoke and hot lead filled his nostrils. He’d stayed abreast of all the reports coming in, along with his officers’ pleas for retreat, but he wouldn’t let them waiver. If this was to be their end, then he would make it the bloodiest in the history of war.
Colonel Herrera met him outside a makeshift tent beside a jet hangar. “General, it is an honor to have you on the field of battle with us today.”
“Field of battle? And where do you see a battle happening, Colonel?”
“General, we wanted to ensure your safety. It would be unwise to have you so close to the enemy.”
“For my safety or yours, Colonel?”
Herrera stood slack jawed, unable to speak. Gallo brushed past him and flung open the tent flap. All the officers stood and saluted. He stepped slowly around the men, refusing to allow them to lower their salutes. His eyes roamed over the map in the center of the room. His forces were being pushed back on all fronts: California, Phoenix, and Albuquerque. His fleet off the coast of San Diego was in shambles, and his planes were falling from the skies.
“Is this how you represent your country? Your heritage?” Gallo asked.
The officers remained silent, their arms still rigid in salute.
“Is this how you win a war?” Gallo bellowed, slamming his fist into the table and disrupting the positions of the figurines.
Herrera entered upon hearing the noise. His face was ghost white. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to form words that just wouldn’t come.
“What is it, Colonel?” Gallo asked.
“S-sir… The Americans… Our men… They’re surrounded.”
“What?”
The colonel didn’t repeat himself, but he didn’t need to. Gallo turned to one of the officers next to him, yanking his hand down from the salute. “How many men do you have stationed here?”
“Twelve hundred, General.”
“I want every soldier, officer, and able-bodied man in the area armed and mobilized within thirty minutes. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gallo turned to the rest of the officers. The red tint of rage covered his face. A vein throbbed on the side of his neck, exacerbated by the pinch of his collar. He repeated himself. “Do I make myself clear?!”
All of the officers responded with a clear and resonating “Yes, sir!”
***
Captain Howard surveyed the aftermath of the battle from the USS Ronald Reagan. The pillars of smoke coming from the Mexican warships multiplied, and the rest had surrendered. Pint came up behind him when a call came through.
“Captain, Captain Ford is radioing in.”
Howard picked up the line immediately. “What do we have, Ford?”
“The bastards are dropping their guns. We have confirmed reports of surrender in Phoenix and Albuquerque.”
Howard let out a silent sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear, Captain.”
“Gallo himself is heading to San Diego now for the official surrender.”
“He is?”
“Yes, and I thought you’d like to be there to watch.”
“It would be an honor, Captain.
”
“Chopper leaves in twenty.”
An uproar of applause filled the ocean air as Captain Howard descended the island staircase and stepped onto the flight deck. But unlike the sailors around him, he wouldn’t let himself feel this win until it was officially over. When he saw Gallo surrender his men, that’s when the war would be over for him.
***
The helicopter ride to San Diego was short. They were only ten miles from shore. Howard and Ford stepped onto the tarmac of the San Diego Naval Base. A line of armored trucks greeted their arrival, and both Ford and Howard climbed into the back seat of a Hummer in the middle of the pack.
